Another segment fromÂ Use Your Hallucinations: MONDO 2000 in the Late 20th Century Cyberculture

One fine Sunday, we had a party â€” it may have been for the release of one of our newsletters â€” and it was possibly the biggest weâ€™d ever had.Â The backyard at Quail House looked almost like a small rock festival as attendees found their spots and, no doubt, dosed themselves with favorite hallucinogens.

I had just received a fairly large bundle of 5-meo-DMT, a substance similar to DMT (and the stuff that Queen Mu had discovered was in a certain type of toad venom) â€” but unlike DMT, a full dose was 5 instead of 35 milligrams.Â The experience was perhaps even more intense, but rather than entering a colorful infinitely-dimensional funhouse filled with elves and clowns, some of whom may try to convey a message, 5-meo put you into something very much like that tunnel heading towards the white light reported by so many who had been pulled back from death.

I must have been bored, because as the sun was starting to set â€” and after smoking a double dose â€” I decided to turn on every person there.

Feeling like a cosmic assassin on a mission to blow away everyoneâ€™s last shred of attachment to any and all social constructs, I set out with my pipe and my bundle.

Most of the attendees â€” veteran trekkers all â€” accepted my kind invitation and took their journey beyond the veil with aplomb.Â Every once in awhile, I would do unto myself as I was doing unto others.Â A few partiers rolled around on the ground in fear or clutched my arm tightly while I reassured them that they werenâ€™t actually dead. But only Ariana â€” usually a psychedelic trooper â€” complained that it was too muchâ€¦ and not something I should be passing around willy-nilly.

Finally, I entered the final room of the house, where some boys â€”Â Iâ€™d estimate they were in their late teens â€” were hanging.Â Boy One took his dose and settled back calmly into the void.Â Boy Two, same thing.Â I came to Boy Three, the nightâ€™s final target.Â A big dude with a punkish shock of spikey blonde hair. He took his big hit and, unlike most, he didnâ€™t close his eyes.Â He stared out at me in terror. His head jerked back and forth.Â I was ready for him to go totally Linda Blair on me.Â Well, his head didnâ€™t spin around in a complete circle, but he did projectile vomit (it wasnâ€™t green). And then he laughed. He blinked a few times.Â And then he looked at me.Â â€œDude, that was fucking awesome!â€

A few weeks later, I heard that this party was rather the last straw for some responsible members of the psychedelic community.Â I specifically heard strongly worded objections from a fellow Â psuedonymned D.M. Turner, Â who would later be instrumental in popularizing Salvia Divinorum amongst the psychedelic cognoscente. In fact, when he came up with a formula for orally active salvia, he refused to share it with me, largely on the basis of the infamous 5-meo DMT party.Â (D.M. Â later drowned in his bathtub after injecting ketamine, a fact that I donâ€™t share with some sort of perverse sense of triumph.Â He was a truly sweet guy and he was probably right in objecting to my day as a cosmic assassination.)

Search

About Acceler8or:

R.U. Sirius brings you ACCELER8OR.Use us as your thoroughfare for accelerating technoculture & screaming memes, with a side order of strangeness and charm. Read articles and interviews which illuminate the New Edge culture.

Warning:This site may contain unlabelled irreverence and subtle playfulness.Humorless and hypersensitive people should proceed with caution.